Lessons in Diagon Alley
by Noche Buena
Summary: Ron didn't do so well on his end of the school exams. In comes Hermione....
1. Lessons the First

Untitled Document Hermione Granger stood in the middle of Diagon Alley, tapping her foot impatiently on the smooth cobblestone streets. She checked her watch every minute or so, sighing as she folded her arms into an annoyed stance. It was a lovely late August. The sky was clear blue and filled with fluffy clouds that gradually changed colors from a cotton candy pink to a sparkling sapphire blue  
to a deep forest green, the color of her friend Harry Potter's eyes. 

  
However, the one person she was supposed to be meeting wasn't there at the specified time of 1:30 PM. 

"Ron Weasley, where *are* you?" muttered the no longer frizzy haired girl of 15. She was to be Ron's summer tutor, even although there wasn't much summer left. 

Ron Weasley had not done so well on his final exams during his fourth year. His mother, Mrs. Weasley, had received the owl post from Hogwarts, even though he had desperately tried to summon it to himself from his upstairs window. Yet, he really hadn't gotten the hang of that one on his Charms exams, and so Mrs. Weasley had opened it.

One look at the cream colored paper was all it took to make her yell.

Fred and George, his older twin brothers, had come downstairs for a snack (they ate a lot these days), and found Mrs. Weasley practically fuming at the ears. 

"Get. Your. Brother," she had ordered at the two, knowing they were hiding behind the worn door. 

After that, Ron himself had to call Hermione and ask her to help him catch up on everything they had learned. He was very unhappy when she had exclaimed happily that she'd be "pleased to study with you," and from then on, they would meet weekly in Diagon Alley, because it was halfway between both of their houses. True, there were to be only two sessions, but Mrs. Weasley was determined to make her youngest son learn.

"Hermione!" A voice called behind her, sounding rather strained.

"My friend Hermione, please, my friend, don't make me do this..." 

Hermione gradually spun around, finding Mr. Weasley and Ron, who was stuffing his hands in his cloak defiantly, not looking at all happy to see her. "Well, hello Ron. So kind of you to show up," she said, her lips turning up into a smirk. 

The brunette witch managed to remember her manners, and she smiled at Mr. Weasley.

"Hello, Mr. Weasley. I'll take good care of Ron, I promise."

Mr. Weasley looked worn out, as if he had dragged a screaming wildcat into the family's car, and then had to strap it down while dodging its claws. He smiled thankfully at Hermione. "I'm so sorry we had to bother you, Hermione. I know you must not be wanting to do this... Percy didn't want to tutor him, so you were our next option." 

He trailed off and grabbed the neck of Ron's cloak, who had been sneakily edging towards Mr. Ollivander's wand shop. Hermione was slightly offended that he would rather be with the creepy old man rather than himself.

All the while, Ron had not even looked up at her. He had grown taller during the  
holidays, but not too tall that Hermione would be a tiny spot beneath him. She was beginning to get a bit irritated at the red-haired boy.

"It's really not a problem," Hermione said as brightly as she could, smiling again. 

Ron grumbled something that sounded a lot like "Yes, it is." 

Mr. Weasley sighed loudly, then noticed something. "Your hair looks nice, Hermione. Did you color it a different color?" Ron suddenly looked up at his father's question, hoping to see Hermione looking like a wild boar. Unfortunately, she had become quite the opposite of a wild boar. His brown eyes went wide and his mouth dropped. 

"Helloooooo, Hermione." Ron's brain did not particularly care that Hermione happened to be his best friend. "Looking very nice today. Very, very nice, in fact. Mmm-hmm"

Hermione was feeling a bit uncomfortable as Ron stood gaping at her body.

There was an akward silence, and Ron had to stop looking at her or have his father remove his eyeballs. "Flobberworms, Ron! Get yourself together, man."

  
Then, his father interrupted his river of denial.

"Well, I better go," said Mr. Weasley hurriedly. "There's a lady in Southampton who ate a Glowing Whiddle, and apparently, from what I've heard, she's been glowing different colors all day. Morty Magunus saw her when he was on Ministry business. Thank God  
she's blind!" 

With that final note, Mr. Weasley dashed away, calling back to Ron that he'd pick him up *right* there in one hour, and that Hermione was to give him an owl if Ron escaped.

  
"Hello," gruffed out Ron, whose mouth had slightly closed, but there was a tiny trace of drool on the side of his lip. Hermione grinned. "I was wondering when you were going to say that. You were much nicer before your mum told you that you had to have lessons with me."

Ron raked a freckled hand through his bright red hair. "It's holidays! SUMMER holidays, Hermione! I think there's a law against studying during the holidays. Wouldn't want to break any rules..."

  
"But I'm willing to make an exception for you, Ron." 

They walked over together to the ice cream shop not too far away, pulling up chairs at a brightly colored parasol covered table. Hermione took a large books out of her bookbag, much resembling the ones they had poured over at Hogwarts. 

"Well then. Shall we start?" The sleek haired girl asked the apprehensive boy sitting across the table from her. 

"Noo..." moaned Ron, who was obviously not happy to be here. He burrowed his red head underneath his arms defensively. "You're being so mean."

"Good to know, Ron," said Hermione, who wasn't to be fazed by anything the boy was saying today. He was completely mad, if not a little bit red in the face, at least. As Hermione plunked the last heavy book on the table, Florean Fortescue came out of the  
cheery ice cream parlor (whose banner on the front of the shop had ice cream dripping from a crystal bowl). 

"Ah, Harry Potter's friends!" Florean said instantly, knowing the two teenagers by the amount of books she carried around."What will you be having today?" He asked, cheerily wiping his hot fudge covered hands on his completely sanitary apron. The  
brown chocolate stains disappeared instantly.

"Double chocolate foam with teeth colouring sprinkles!" Exclaimed Ron right away, knowing he'd probably need the chocolate. 

"One double chocolate foam, colour sprinkles," noted Florean Fortescue with a Quick-Notes quill. "And you?" He asked Hermione.

"Er... Peanut butter and jelly ice cream," Hermione told him. Florean took the notes taken with the quill, tapped it with his wand, and magically, their orders appeared on the table instantly. 

"Cool," breathed Hermione, who had never really sat down long enough to order here, or maybe it was just because Harry and Ron and herself had usually been not studying and weren't really paying attention. Ron sipped his slowly, knowing it would be his only one, because he only had about two sickles with him, and the other five he was planning on buying a Cannons playing card with.

"All right. I'm guessing you didn't miss that much, but enough to mess up your exams, right?" she asked.

"I'm not sure what I missed or then I'd probably remember it." Ron's arduous demeanor had slightly vanished as he drank the foamy goodness. He shrugged. "I know I didn't do so well on Snape's extreme forgetting potion. I think I might've inhaled some of the fumes and then forgot how long to keep it on or something. Then I forgot things the rest of the day. I remember them now so can we stop studying?"

"We haven't even started!" reprimanded Hermione. She took a bite out of her ice cream. Yummm... The magic world was so much more fun than her own in the Muggle world.

"You're disgusting!" Ron exclaimed. "It's *summer*. Summer! You need summer lessons, Hermione. I could start teaching you right now! Now, repeat after me. Quidditch is fun to play. Quidditch is fun to play. Quidditch is fun to- mmmpph!"

Hermione had clamped her hand over Ron's mouth before he could say anything else. She scowled menacingly at the boy who was trying to thwart her lessons. "My lessons. You learn, I teach. Not the other way around, because I know how to have fun during summer. But, as I'm getting paid to teach you, I figure you should actually learn something. So shut up and listen!"

Ron's eyes went wide and his mouth stopped blabbing, shocked at Hermione's outburst. She usually never talked like that, unless you counted the time when she went a little mad during the third year. At least then, she had a reason to be wicked.

"Yes, Miss Hermione. I'll be a good little boy, I swear."

Her facial features softened and she grinned at him. "Good. So have you done any of your homework yet?"

Ron grimaced. "I'm going to ignore that rather thick question and let you answer." Hermione sighed loudly, obviously irritated at his bluntness.

She took another bite out of her ice cream.

"That's a no, right?"

"Right. But Dad made me bring some of it, so he'd be sure I wouldn't procrastinate. You have a lot riding on your shoulders, Hermione," Ron told her knowledgeably.

"Then let's see it! Do you have the Hinkypunk trials paper with you for History of Magic?" 

Ron pulled a few papers out of his own bookbag he was carrying. It was considerably lighter than Hermione's, whose was bulging at the seams.

"Yeah." He handed the papers to Hermione, who only took a few seconds to read the one sentence that read, "Hinkypunks are very scary little monsters."

"Ronnn..." She grumbled discontently. "That's *barely* a sentence."

"Er-my-kneeee... It was boring! Come on, you know History of Magic is boring!" Ron refused to believe that Hermione could actually disagree against that. They *were* kind of scary, and he really didn't remember anything about hinkypunks. That had been way  
back in third year. 

"Okay, so if we're not going to go anywhere studying, what are we supposed to do?" Hermione gave in. It was too hard to teach Ron. He simply wouldn't learn anything, and she knew it was hopeless as soon as she read the sentence. She finished her ice  
cream quickly, ignoring the drips appearing gradually on her leg.

Ron grinned broadly, showing off his pearly white teeth. "He really can make a girl swoon sometimes," thought Hermione. "Eurgh. No, he couldn't, because it's physically impossible to swoon from a smile. What kind of a word is swoon, anyway?"

Hermione shook her head, trying to get rid of the traumatic thoughts coursing through her brain.

"Well, I could teach you about the wonderfulness of Merlin's Lyrvies," Ron told her, still grinning. "I swear, they're educational."

"What?" Hermione asked, completely confused by their very name.

"Merlin's Lyrvies! You haven't even heard of them?" Ron replied, astonished. That was practically impossible. All wizarding children had at least heard of them once in their lifetime.

She shook her head eagerly. "No, I haven't! Come on, tell me!" She started packing up her books and gave Ron his papers back. Ron noticed this and had to stuff back his laugh of victory. He had made Hermione stop studying! The joy and rapture!

  
Ron shook his head back at her, giving a small cluck of his tongue. "So deprived, so deprived," he said with a mock sadness. Then he smiled again. "No, really, you have. Come on, I'll show you." And with that, he grabbed her warm hand impatiently, pulling her away from the table outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor down the long cobblestoned street of Diagon Alley. 

Hermione blushed as they walked down the street and Ron eventually let go of her hand as he walked impatiently down the rather long alley. If her eyes were mistaking her, she thought she had just seen him turn a deep crimson too as the sparks stopped running up her arm when they had let go of each other. But then again, Ron's skin was usually kind of red anyway...

"Not that I ever notice Ron's skin. That's really bizarre, Hermione." Hermione mentally smacked herself as she struggled to keep up with her friend.

Finally, the two friends reached a very small shop with the words "Merlin's Lavoratory" enscripted on it. Hermione placed her hands on her hips and stared open-mouthed at Ron. He had just started to open the large glass door to the inside when he felt her gaze  
on his back. He spun around.

"What? It's the name of the shop!" Ron swore to Hermione, whose hair had begun to pop up in frizzy little tafts because of the heat outside. She ran a hand through her hair, shaking her head absently at the Quidditch-obsessed boy. Knowing him, it probably *did* have something to do with broomsticks and flying bludgers. Hermione walked in cautiously, half-expecting a broom to come flying at her. Instead, she found a room full of shelves of odd things that she recognized but couldn't really remember the names of. The shelves held shiny little thingamabobs, jumping dolls, and simmering cauldrons of God-knew-what.

"What is this place?" Hermione asked Ron softly, shifting her book bag to a more comfortable resting position on her shoulder. He stepped sideways towards her, brushing her hip with his arm accidentally. In the dim atmosphere of the shop and with only candles  
glowing (no sun. the curtains were shut.) she couldn't tell if he had blushed. He cleared his throat, leaning in towards her conspiratiorially. "It's Percy's apartment."

She gazed over at him, only about 9 inches away from her face. Hermione frowned. "It is not Percy's apartment." He nodded, smiling widely.

"Gee, Hermione, you're smart."

"I know."

"Of course you do. You know everything."

  
Hermione slapped his shoulder lightly. "Shut up!" she whispered. A soft voice appeared from behind the counter. "The girl is right," the mysterious voice said. And the Mysterious Voice Lady rose up behind the large mahogany counter with glass jars on top. There  
appeared-

"Professor Trelawney?" said Ron and Hermione in unison, completely shocked. Now the candles and the heat of the room made sense. Professor Trelawney's aura had been redecorating. And it looked like the Merlin's Lyrvies were gone! Ron gaped at Trelawney in indignation, but she seemed to take his staring as a compliment.

"Children! How nice it is to see you in the summer holidays. I was wondering when you were going to wander inside the peaceful store of mine. I saw it in my crystal ball, I did. You were wearing those bookbags, too." Professor Trelawney gasped at the stagger  
of the words of truth she had just spouted.

Hermione and Ron had to conceal their laughs bubbling up in their throats. He cleared his throat, surpressing his grin. "This is your store?"

Professor Trelawney's arm seemed to sweep large amounts of gauzy cloth all over the tiny room, showing it the shop off as if it were some magnificent treasure. "But of course! Even Hogwarts teachers have to work during the summer. Headmaster Dumbledore prefers that we live our lives outside of teaching, of course."

Hermione nodded, a little surprised. It wasn't really as if she was surprised- but the teachers at Hogwarts spent at least 10 months out of the year there. There wasn't much time to have a "personal life," really. It seemed rather funny that Professor Trelawney  
worked in a small shop during the summers. Hermione had thought that she stayed at home and gazed into the crystal ball and saw a whole lot of bad weather coming. 

  
However, now Ron looked slightly angry at Professor Trelawney. Mervin's Lyrvies was gone! Now it was all Professor Trelawney's fault, and she hadn't even bothered to change the sign out in front. Then at least he could've avoided the buggy-eyed rambling teacher of his. The day was turning out to be not so good. At least Hermione was with him so then he wouldn't have had a purely awful tutor. 

Sybil Trelawney clasped her hands together excitedly, bringing Ron and Hermione back from their daydreams. "Why don't I give you a reading? For free, of course, as you are- or were," she glanced at Hermione dismissively, "my students. It would be my pleasure!"

Hermione and Ron attempted to stammer out some "No, thank you, she's my tutor, we've really got to study, uh, I've got to be home by 4 or Mum'll be furious-" but she would have none of it. 

She adjusted her glasses and lead the two protesting teenagers into a back room, pushing the tacky beaded curtains apart as they entered an even smaller room with a fireplace in it. Ron and Hermione sat down dutifully upon some wonderfully comfortable poofs in the corner where a draping tablecloth with stars and moons on it lay on a small circular table. 

Trelawney pulled out her wand, and started a small green fire in the fireplace. Then she took a seat across from her students, arranging her gauzy gossamer cloak with skinny fingertips. "Ahhh... The aura in here is lovely! It really brings out the karma of your  
hair, Ronald..." she glanced expectantly at Ron, who was blushing furiously. Not because of the compliment, however.

Hermione giggled and looked at the boy sitting next to her. "Ronald!" she gasped for breath, laughing so hard her stomach hurt. She snorted into the tablecloth.

Professor Trelawney looked disapprovingly at Hermione, now trying to stuff her fist in her mouth. "Now, dear. Ronald is a perfectly wonderful name. It does indeed go well with his karma." Ron tried to bury himself under the table, but Hermione pulled his collar of his shirt up. She stopped giggling and managed to compose herself, because apparently Professor Trelawney was most displeased with her karma. 

"Hermee-ownee," muttered Ron back at Hermione. She didn't seem to care about the mispronunciation of her name. "Ronald," she gritted back, giggling a little more.

Trelawney cleared her throat quite loudly, announcing that she was about to begin. Hermione nudged Ron in the side. "Yes, Ronald. Your karma is being most displeasing. It may be harming the beautiful crystal ball sitting oh-so-kindly in front of us."

The teacher's voice started quite mysteriously, her buggy eyes twitching beneath her rather large unbecoming glasses. "Ahhhhhh... Ahhh..." her voice called out loudly.

"Choooo..." Ron said softly under his breath to Hermione.

"Bless you," she replied back with equal softness. Trelawney either ignored their comments or was completely deaf. She went on. "I see things... Ahhhh, yes."

Ron squinted at the crystal ball, trying to see "things." Hermione tried looking at what Ron was looking, but also saw nothing. "Maybe we should ship her off to the looney bin if she's going mad and seeing things," Ron murmured.

Trelawney placed her thin hands upon the tablecloth, trying to see more clearly into the crystal ball. Her eyes were now practically glued to the shiny glass ball. Ron put his hand over Hermione's mouth, sensing that she was about to go into gales of laughter. He  
was right.

"Mhhhhahahhaahah!" her voice was muffled a lot more now because of Ron's hand. Professor Trelawney was much too into her lovely crystal ball in front of her. Ron looked over at Hermione and started snorting quite loudly. Hermione saw Ron laughing in the  
dim light of the fireplace and started snorting too.

"Alas! My dear students!" the teacher's melancholy voice rang out in the teeny tiny room. "I see such- dark things. Dark, dark, dark, dark things," she said quite sadly.

"I see such- stupid things. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid things," mumbled Hermione to Ron. He nodded at her, agreeing completely. Trelawney heard this and glared at the two. "I'm afraid your auras are making my Inner Eye feel rather troubled. I cannot see anything with the two of you here. So if you could please leave..." her voice trailed off as her eyes were captured by the crystal ball.

Ron and Hermione stood up immediately. "We're sorry, Professor. See you in September!" Hermione said quickly. Ron nodded.

"Bye!"

And with that, the two of them dashed out of their teacher's shop and found themselves in the nice cool outdoors. At least it was cool compared to the awful tiny shop. They let out the laughter they had tried to keep in, and kept on laughing for a couple minutes until they could regain their breaths.

Hermione looked over at Ron, her chest heaving. "I really don't like her." 

Ron nodded back, also agreeing. "Well, I really really don't like her. I'd rather be with Lockhart than with her."

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "Lockhart isn't that bad."

Ron glanced at Hermione disbelievingly. "You're not kidding? You only like him because he's handsome, and you know it!"

She glared at him. "Do not. I like Victor, don't I? And he's not a bit handsome."

"Everbody likes Krum, Er-my-knee. He's famous."

"So? I did have a rather nice time with his family and him in Bulgaria. Mum and Dad came too, you know."

Lots of fascinating history there. Lots of broomsticks, too. You'd probably love it," retaliated Hermione, getting a little off-topic. She really did have a nice time with Victor.

"I'd probably not! I might think Krum is a fabulous Quidditch player but it's not like I'd..."

Hermione interrupted. "You would too! You're only angry because he didn't invite you." She crossed her arms under her chest, her face red. Fidgeting with his bookbag, Ron glared almost as menacingly back at Hermione. Like he cared! He could visit Krum  
anytime now that he was out of school. He didn't need Hermione's permission or anything. 

"I'm not angry. I don't even care!" Ron yelled at Hermione. They were in a more secluded part of Diagon Alley, so there weren't *that* many people around. But there were enough heads to turn and look at Hermione and Ron to make them move around the back of a Muggle clothes store. There were high brick walls surrounding them, but it was clean. The back of the clothes store had not a lot of space, but there was a whole long alleyway along the back of every store, including Professor Trelawney's.

There was enough room for Ron to lean against one brick wall, and for Hermione to reset against the back of the clothes store wall. They both crossed their arms over their chests and stayed that way for many long minutes, glaring at each other, trying to stare  
one another down. At last, Ron said something. The tension was so thick between the two you couldn't have cut it with a sledgehammer if you wanted to.

"Maybe I did care," he muttered under his breath, hoping Hermione wouldn't hear him. He dropped his bookbag to the cracked cement floor of the back alley.

Hermione had heard him. She snapped her head up hopefully. "Not like I care that he cared." She toed a pebble into a small crack in the cement, and waited a while before she responded. Ron was slightly wringing his fingers together, back and forth, and back  
and forth.

"Maybe I should have told him to invite you," Hermione replied softly.

Ron shrugged his shoulders sadly. "Even with the money Harry gave us..." Hermione knew what he was talking about. The money was going into fixing up the Weasley house and starting a shop for the twins. Even with the money... He wouldn't have been able  
to come. 

"I know," she finished for him. He looked up gratefully. The topic of money was always a sort of sore spot for Ron. Harry and Hermione didn't bring it up unless they had to, and it wasn't often. 

"You're a good friend, Hermione," he told her truthfully. "Even if you are going to make me repeat fifth year if you don't help me with my stupid essays."

She looked at him, incensed. "Oh, please Ron. It was your fault in the first place."

He furrowed his eyebrows at her, already feeling a little better. Not that he was feeling bad because of the Krum conversation, of course. *I don't care... That much.* But even that was an understatement. "It was not! My father is paying you darn good knuts..."

Hermione grinned. "Then we'd better get on with the lessons already, shouldn't we?" Ron shrugged. "Personally, I think this back alley is very charming. I'm feeling very educated already! See?" he indicated, starting to count the number of rough red bricks  
stacked up 20 ft into the air. "I'm learning numbers... So then.. Er... Snape won't kill me when I put 4 boar eyes in the Hair Growth potion instead of 1/2 boar eyes."

Hermione grinned, and elbowed his gut. "Ow!" he yelled. "That hurt, Hermione. Really." He patted his chest. "Right in here, it did."

"I'm sure."


	2. Lessons the Second

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**Wheeh! Pyro is updating. Just to tell the person who asked where Harry is, well, I don't like Harry that much, and besides, he's already the star of all the books! There won't be any Ron/Hermione smoochage, because they don't tell much about Ron and Hermione alone. They're always with Harry when their story is told. So technically, they wouldn't EVER kiss, because Harry would be right there. And that'd be, I dunno, uncomfortable? So there's your answer, ;)**

**Ooh, and more advertising for the ever-talented VanDerGirl, aka Justine. Go [now][1]!**

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Hermione turned on her foot and started looking around for a way to get out of their brick maze behind Diagon Alley. 

Ron looked at her curiously. "Whatcha doing, Her-my-ow-nee?"

She spun around slowly to face him and raised her eyebrows. "You said you didn't want to fail. And I know Snape would fail you, Harry, or I if we ever gave him a chance to. So are we going to do this, or are you just going to make up things all day and toddle around?"

His green eyes- or were they brown? Or bl- Hermione stopped herself from questioning her brain too much- Ron's eyes looked down at the smooth cobblestone ground, finally coming up to rest upon Hermione's book bag. He glanced at disdainfully, and then hard enough as if he could make it disappear. Which, really, he could, come to think of it. But then Hermione would bring it right back. So really, it wasn't any use to hope that it could hop over the 20 ft. wall. 

"Well? Are you?" She asked again, waiting for his answer.  
"Fine. I'll study. But only because you're one of my best friends in the entire world. Of course, Harry's a lot more f-" he stopped as Hermione glared at him furiously. "Fruity!" Ron finished. "Harry is very fruity! You're more- er, flowery."

She gave a small smile at that one. "Good to know, Ronald." She started walking around, her trainers making barely any noise at all on the cobblestones. Ron trailed after her aimlessly, not really caring whether they got out of there or not. He glanced at his watch after a minute or so, as Hermione muttered to herself on how to get out of there. It was 1:30 PM now, and he had gotten there at noon. His dad was going to be back in a half an hour, and if he happened to be very unlucky today, then his mum would probably come. She'd be furious. She'd probably even quiz him on how to do things.

"Hermione?" Ron asked, with terror in his voice. "Do you know how to get out of this place? Because I don't really remember how to get back to Trelawney's place."

She looked up at him, surprised. "What, now you want to get out of this place?"

"No. Actually, I'd stay here, except for the fact that my mum could come in a half an hour, and she's terrifying when she's angry," Ron explained, starting to actually look around with Hermione.

"I like your mother. She's nice."  
Ron shook his head. "I don't think you've seen her *really* angry, Hermione. She's scary." 

Hermione laughed, a light bubbling sound coming out of her throat that seemed to bounce on the walls. Ron's mum wasn't _scary! _ Ron looked a little flustered by her laugh, which most of the time he managed to hide. "But she is! Really!" he insisted. "If she knew that I was wandering around the back of Diagon Alley instead of having lessons with you, she'd be furious at me- and even more furious at you."

She pursed her lips, finally taking her wand out of her book bag. "This is the only logical way to get out. Of course, besides retracing our steps, which could definitely take more than a half an hour, because I don't really remember where we came from. I just hope the owners of the store in front of us don't mind us barging in like that."

When Ron looked at her questioningly, she told him, "Oh. It's simple. I just have to tap the wall with my wand, mutter a bunch of stuff, and then a couple of bricks'll move out of the way."

"Just like that?" he asked, eyebrows raised. Seems like Hermione had been doing some extra homework over the summer. Not that it was unusual, but usually she just answered questions in class in a rapid fire manner. She didn't really put her knowledge to work unless she was asked to or absolutely needed to. She really wasn't a show-off at all, but Ron just liked to call her that. Hermione never took it to heart, unless you counted that one time in 1st year and that other time and that other time- all right, so he had irked her a little, but it really wasn't that bad. He hoped it wasn't, at least.

She shrugged her shoulders as if was absolutely nothing to perform a spell that nobody in the 5 year knew already. Her periwinkle blue polo shirt inched up her stomach a little as her book bag pressed it there, showing a miniscule bit of smooth, tan skin. It looked like the kind in those sunblock commercials, where they said the lotion was protecting you from the sun, but it really wasn't because the skin was all tan and gorgeous and how in the world did Hermione come into this? 

"What in the world was with Hermione today anyway?" thought Ron, as Hermione faced away from him and glanced at a crumpled sheet of paper she had found in one of her books, supposed while he was staring so obviously at her stomach. Her hair was long and layered, past her shoulders, now a shimmering light brown smoothness that looked like chocolate. And her eyes were sparkling and she wasn't wearing any gunk or anything that most of the girls at Hogwarts wore last year. And her dark blue jeans sitting on her hips that flared slightly over the top of her trainers showed off her long legs in the unusually clear day in London. Ron looked at her back. It was a nice back, really. His eyes started to go lower before he clapped a hand over his eyes. "What the hell're you doing, Weasley? Stop it! That's your friend Hermione. BLAST- ENDED SKREWTS!" he reprimanded himself, mentally slapping his cheek.

But when the word "end" popped up in his mind, all he could think of was Hermione's backside which was muttering words very quickly (not her backside, her mouth) that made absolutely no sense to Ron. "So are you done yet?" he asked her loudly, glancing at his watch yet again. It was 1:36 now, and things were not getting any better.

Hermione didn't say a word to him, but just kept on going for 15 more seconds. Then, she deftly tapped the brick above her shoulder, and amazingly enough 7 of the bricks wide and all the way down to the floor started moving themselves outside at Hermione's feet, piling into neat little castle like structures. "There!" she said, satisfied with her work, dusting her pants off. She glanced inside the shop for a moment, then looked back at Ron, who had managed to force his hand off his face.

"Are you coming or should I tell your mother you got lost in the toilets?" she said mischiviously, sticking her hand out to lead the way.

"Tell her I blew up the toilet seats. That'll really get Fred and George," replied Ron, with the same tone Hermione had.  
"Of course. Shall I say that you got blown up in the process?"  
"Well, yeah! My gravestone could be made out of toilet seats."  
"Ron?"  
"Yeah?" he replied.  
"That's gross."  
"I know."

Ron and Hermione both stopped talking at the same time, then they tried to walk into the small space- but then things got a little, squishy. Both of them were pressed to each other, because they had tried to get in sideways. Exclamations could be heard from both parties.

"Ow! Hermione! Whatever happened to men go first?" Ron complained, having bumped his head into Hermione, who in turn thwapped his nose. Their proximity to each other was close. A little too close for comfort. Ron rubbed his nose, feigning mock hurt. Hermione, whose foot had been trodden on by a certain red-haired friend of hers, and her shoulder banged in uncomfortably by the brick arch only a little above her shoulder, was not happy. She squeezed into a dark, dark room in front of her with wooden floors. Ron squeezed in after her, standing behind her, his hand coming to rest on her bruised shoulder unconsciously. "You all right?"

"Fine." Hermione shook off his hand, because every time they touched things got- got- something.

Hermione stepped a little more into the shop. The windows in front seemed to have been painted white, so no one could see in. She could only make out silhouettes of things, and she had to squint even to see those. Ron stepped out beside her, brushing his arm with hers. That simple contact caused a small shiver of sparks to run up her arm, and her face to turn a deep color of red. Hermione was glad it was dark, because she knew that Ron would probably have been laughing at her if he had seen her. She took a step sideways away from him, pretending to look interested in a form that sort of looked like a mannequin. When she touched the fabric on the torso, she found that it was made of some sort of smooth feeling silk. It sort of looked like a dress in the dark. With a small dart of light piercing the painted windows, she could see a beautiful v-neck strappy dress, with small sapphires decorating the neckline. 

Ron made no move to go next to her, except glanced at his watch yet again. 1:42. "Hermione? Can we go now?"

"Sure, fine." But Hermione was looking at the dress again with longing eyes. It was floor-length and absolutely gorgeous. Ron noticed her staring at it intently, as if it were some sort of spellbook with lots of complicated things in it. "Why is there a muggle clothes shop in Diagon Alley?" he asked her.

But Hermione didn't really hear him. "I don't know. Wow." It was the first time Hermione had really had an urge to wear something like that. Back in Bristol, she really didn't care about what she wore. Her parents were too proud about her schoolwork, and that's all she really cared about until she met Ron, Harry, Hagrid, and some of the crowd at Hogwarts. "I wonder who it's for," she murmured softly, forgetting all about getting out of the alley and studying with Ron. All she could think of was how beautiful this dress and how much she wanted to wear it to something. 

Ron crossed his arms impatiently. What in the world was Hermione doing? It was just a dress. Then, he got a flash of Hermione wearing it. Fitting perfectly over all of her curves (which, he had only just noticed last year), and draping to the floor and her looking all sparkly and b- and AHHHHH! No! Not again. He forced himself to think of Hermione and Krum, which, for some reason, managed to unnerve him so much that he grabbed Hermione's arm away from the dress, and started tugging her blindly for the door. It really was hard to see in this kind of light.

"Ron! What are you doing?" Hermione asked angrily. "I just wanted to look at it for just a second and then you get all 'grrrr.'" Her lips pursed up and she walked back to the dress, looking at it just once more. It was gorgeous. And she could just imagine herself, dancing around a newly waxed floor, sliding around in ballerina slippers. The kind you could go up on toe on. Then, she turned around to face Ron. "We can go now," she said reluctantly, looking up at him, less than enthused.

He was staring at her with this intense look on her face that he got sometimes when they were studying with Harry, when he thought she wasn't looking. From past times, she knew that if she didn't say anything about it, he would keep on doing it until she told him to stop staring at her. But most of the times, she said nothing. Because it was kind of nice having someone staring at you, even if you don't know what the person was staring at. Even if you had broccoli in your teeth.

Ron stopped staring and scratched his shoulder absent-mindedly. "It's okay." His heart was pounding louder than Fred and George when they were making Hopping Hammers, a new gadget for their joke shop. The weird Hermione vibes were getting to him again, that was all. Heat exhaustion. That was it. "So, are we going or are we going to stay here forever?" he asked her softly. It was so quiet and so dark that his voice seemed to shake a little in the dark. 

She strode over to him, right in front of him. He was tall, she remarked. At her stature of 5'6, he was only a couple inches taller. Maybe 5'11. Or 6 feet. His hair was somewhat spiky in the dark, and his dark eyes seemed to glint at her a little. "We could go," she whispered. Ron grinned.

"Or we could stay," Ron replied. Her vibes were really getting to him now. He could even _smell _her, for God's sakes. It was a good smell. Not flowery or anything. Just- Hermione smell. Sort of bookish. "Sort of bookish?" he scoffed at himself. Is that how you think of the girl- er, best friend who is currently here with you in this dark, dark room with only 15 minutes to spare before your father/mum comes and beats you down for not studying?

She nodded, grinning a little, showing perfectly white teeth that were straight. Not big at all anymore. "We could."

Oh God. Too close, too close, too close. Hermione was bordering on his Personal Space. Very, very personal, where things got close. He stepped back a little, bumping into the door. It was locked.

"But we shouldn't," he replied, gulping a little. He hoped Hermione didn't see that. 

Hermione nodded. "Let me get the door." She came close to him again, then crouched down a little so she could fiddle with the lock with a bobby pin that was pinning her hair back. Hermione inserted it in, and twisted a little. No click. She twisted it again. No click. She twisted it once more, fiddling roughly with it. She was on her knees now, getting dusty on the wooden floors that hadn't appeared to be mopped in a long time. "Damn..." she whispered, uttering a curse word she never really used.

"Ooh. Harsh words from the Smarty Pants," said Ron, trying to shake off the little shimmers of sparks running through his body.

"Fine!" Hermione stood up abruptly, glaring at him right in the face. "If you're so smart, why don't you do it?" Like he could open the lock better than she could.

He raised his eyebrows and smirked at her. "Fine." He made sure to brush against her as he crouched down and grabbed the hair pin from Hermione's soft hand. He shoved it in, twisted it left, left, right, left, and the door gave a small click. "Hear that, Her-mee-own? That's the sound of-" Ron brought himself up to full height and brushed off his knees "-success."

She looked at him warily. "Hear that, Ronald? That's the sound of your overinflated brain." She grabbed the pin in his hand and put it in her pocket, looking at him defiantly. "That didn't mean anything," she told him, looking at the sloppily painted glass door. They both reached for the golden doorknob at the same time, their hands coming in contact mid-air. Ron could feel his face heating up, and could have sworn he heard Hermione say something like "oh, god" under her breath.

At the same time, their eyes snapped up and looked at each other. It was so dark in the room, but Hermione could see Ron's eyes. As well as could Ron, who saw Hermione's dark eyes before him. The air in the room was so static and tension filled it was almost painful, crushing his chest. He knew what he wanted, and he was pretty sure Hermione wanted it too. Ron came a little bit closer to Hermione, whose small hand had quivered a small moment when their hands were touching. He started caressing the palm of her hand with his thumb, the pad brushing over the small ridges and the smooth surfaces, his breathing getting rageddly as though she was causing him to feel all light-headed and weird and stuff. For one thing, he wasn't letting go of her hand, and it was making more little sparks shoot up her body. And they were wriggly sparks, too.

"Hermione?" Ron broke the silence, asking her something they both knew they really badly wanted to do at that point. His voice was low and odd-sounding- he didn't sound like that unless he really meant something.

"Yeah?" she replied, almost breathlessly. That was it. She wanted to kiss him, and damn Krum to the Snape's dungeons. Who cared about Krum? Krum who? Because the only thing she could think of was how Ron was brushing his hand against hers, and god knows it felt good. Really, really good. Her eyes landed upon his lips. His perfect, slightly pouted lips that were a little bit open. She bit her bottom lip, to try and control herself from reaching up and touching those perfect lips. Those freckled cheeks. His arms. Everything that belonged to him, she wanted to run her hands over.

Meanwhile Ron was having even more trouble controlling himself. He really badly wanted to kiss her. A lot. So much that it was almost driving him absolutely mad. But he knew that Harry would never forgive him if he did. Or maybe he would. Or wouldn't. At this point, touching her warm hand and her skin, getting those fiery little brushes, he couldn't possibly care about Harry. For some reason, he felt unbelievably nervous. And his heart was slamming against his chest and he felt like he couldn't breathe. He had to say something. He looked at his watch.

"It's 1:48 now," he said quietly, in the same voice. It was driving Hermione slightly insane, how it was a little gravelly sounding and not at all from when he was 13, 12, or 11.

She nodded slowly, resisting the urge again to fling herself into Ron's arms and kiss him till her knees were weak and the world was spinning and they were on the floor... "Studying," she reprimanded herself, closing her eyes shut, not being able to bear looking at him.

Ron stared at her intently. Her eyes were closed. "Do it!" his brain screamed. "Not in that sense, of course, but..." She was so intoxicatingly close. So real, and so there. So near to him that he was sure his brain was frying. He gently put a hand on top of her head, as if he was afraid Hermione would break. Hermione kept her eyes closed, but her heart was racing now. Ron slid his hand over her soft hair to her cheek, cuppingly it lightly as he lifted his other hand that was holding Hermione's palm to her face. Now, Hermione was breathing deeply. He was going to kiss her. She was so sure of it.

Ron kept one of his hands on her incredibly soft face, brushing his thumb across her cheek. He let his other hand trail down her neck, over her shoulder, down her arm, making the hairs there stand almost straight up. Then, he slipped his arm to her back. She was so warm everywhere. Hermione kept her eyes closed, and she was biting her lip again.

"Ron..." She whispered, pushing herself closer to him. Ron let his hand slide back up her back, then back down. Fleur was definitely nothing to this. Hermione was going to make him bloody explode. She gave an involuntary shiver. The effect he had on her was incredible. Ron slid his hand along the left side of her body, molding her curves as though she was the statue and he the sculpter, viewing his work. Hermione gulped, licking her lips and leaving them slightly parted. Her eyes opened half-way, giving her a dreamy look about her. She peered up into Ron's eyes. His look reflected her own. Want. Desire. All of it in one handy dandy package.

Ron's breath was getting rageddly again, every breath a chore. All he could think of and want to do right now was to kiss Hermione's glossy pouty parted lips, and he had to do it. Now. But his brain wasn't responding, and now one hand was cupping the hot skin of her neck, and one hand was entangled in her hair. He really wasn't sure what he was doing, but it felt so good and so wrong that it was right.

Hermione's chest was practically heaving. She'd never kissed a boy before. Not even Krum. The only person she'd ever wanted to kiss was Ron, and she'd never told anybody that. Ever. How was she supposed to do this?

Ron lifted up her chin to see him. And then, in one fluid motion, and without so much as a sound, his lips were on hers. Hermione was so shocked she didn't really know how to react, even though she knew it was coming. Then her instinct kicked her in the butt, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, and she stood up on tiptoe a little so then she could better access his lips. The sparks on her arm before were nothing compared to these ones. Ron skimmed his hands to the small of her back, savoring the warmness there. Then, they were pressed together so closely. All her senses were so alert as she moved her lips against his, slowly and torturously. Everything in the world made sense, because they were kissing and kissing and kissing and it was real. It wasn't a dream.

His lips sought her own out eagerly, his hands clutching the bottom back of her shirt in tight fists. It was so unbelievably perfect that Ron never wanted it to end and he just wanted to keep on kissing her, even if the world ended and You-Know-Who came to power and all of it. Her body molded against hers was making him clutch even tighter to her. And it wasn't even an open-mouthed kiss. Hermione was just amazed at the sheer wonderness of him holding her, kissing her, touching the soft and hot skin of her lower back. The little tremors running through her body felt so exquisite, and about 4 minutes flew by with them- kissing. Every touch of their lips was a dizzying spiral of desire, winding them up so thouroughly.

When they broke apart, Ron had her face in his hands, and Hermione still had her arms around his neck. Their eyes were linked, and both of them were breathing heavily. No rational thoughts entered their heads as they just stared at each other, so shocked that they couldn't remove themselves from each other. But then, realization set in upon their eyes, and they broke away abruptly, still having trouble breathing.

"Ron! Why did you do that?" Hermione looked at him, eyebrows furrowed, and her head down, arms crossed defiantly over her chest, trying to hide her body's obvious reaction.

Ron, who was at a loss for words, his hair rumpled rather adorably and his lips thorougly pouted, could only swallow heavily and bite his lip- only muffled words came out. The room was less dark now, and old porcelain dolls could be seen sitting akwardly on musty shelves. 

"Well..." Was all he could say, rather bashfully. "Well..."

"Spit it out!" Hermione said, her tone softening a little from the anger filled question before. He looked so lost. Her body was telling her to run at him and kiss him til the world ended, but her brain won. 

_______________________________

"It's 1:54," said Ron, who was now letting out a big rush of hair pent up in his lungs. He was trying to save himself the embarrassment. He couldn't tell her- he wasn't even sure. He had just kissed her- because she was there, and what else was there to do but study? Study, kiss Hermione, or study? It really wasn't a hard decision for most red-blooded males.

Hermione pursed her lips and looked on the brink of yelling at him. All she did was look sort of humiliated and look towards the door. Ron felt this weird twinge in the bottom of his stomach. Dismay, or something. 

"We have to go," he said a sort of monotone voice, gazing down at the ground. Instead of those few happy seconds afterwards, he was now feeling kind of sad- and angry. "Why her? Why now?" he asked himself, his brain ripped apart from anguish and escstasy.

"If that's all you have to say then- then-" she sputtered, grabbing the door angrily and forcing it open "-I'll see you next week. Same time. Same place." The girl walked out on Ronald Weasley, leaving him staring agape at her retreating back. Did she just ask him out? Whoah. Hermione just asked him out. "No, she didn't, you prat! We have lessons together, remember?" He took his hand and ran it over his lips. Hermione had just been there a second ago, kissing his lips.

Then, the big picture came in. They had kissed, then Hermione had wanted to know why he did that. And he couldn't answer that? What kind of an idiot did you have to be to not answer that? He guessed, in this instance, that you had to be a "Ron Idiot." He smacked his forehead in resentment. He had let her go? And his mum/dad were coming in 5 minutes? Oh, he just had the greatest life. Really, just spiffing.

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   [1]: http://members.fanfiction.net/index.fic?action=story-read&storyid=354683



	3. Lessons the Third

Hermione was so unbelievingly angry as she walked out of the door of whatever shop they were both in- kissing, she remered. She ran her hand through her hair (which, believe it or not, she had actually smoothed down for RON, the prat), just fuming. She bumped into an old witch as she was half-running, half-walking down Diagon Alley. "Sorry!" she called after the witch, who was grumbling slightly about underage witches these days. Hermione usually was considerate towards other people, but anger could make her blow up at someone. "Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn," muttered the brunette, who was rushing as fast as she could, away from the shop, and away from Ron. Her bookbag was slamming uncomfortably on her hip, making her wish she could at least use a Muggle backpack. Hermione walked for a while, trying to find an Underground station. Usually she carried a Travel Card of it around in her pocket, but today she must have forgotten it. Anyway, she knew the stations near her home like the back of her hand, so she never had any trouble getting places. The trouble was getting back.

She found herself in the inner heart of London, full of tall grey buildings and busy people with shopping bags in their hands. There, she saw a Metro (AN: Sorry! I'm only familiar with the French metro, so that's what the Underground shall be named on signs and such.) Hermione looked around herself, finding her body on the corner of Weschire and Forton, people jostling around her. She walked down the hard crumbling steps of the South Kensington station, finding herself in one of many brightly lit white tunnels. The tunnel she was in was very wide, and the sides had posters of various kinds of plays, shopping centers, Marie Claire posters with "Make Sex Sparkling!" splashed everywhere so that everybody travelling today would see it. Hermione walked down the tunnel with the flat bottom warily, rushing by a little faster as she passed a young man with bloodshot eyes yelling, "Change for a pound! Change for a pound!" 

After much deliberation and trouble, she found a ticket machine, and managed to get a map of the London Underground. Hermione lived 10 minutes by bus away from High Barnet, which was all the way at the end of the black line, north of where she was- in Green Park which was on the periwinkle blue line. She traced the lines for a moment, trying to figure out how many stops and how many times she'd have to switch lines. Hermione had it figured out in under a minute, and pullet some Muggle money discreetly out of her jeans pocket. You couldn't be too careful- even though guards were stationed everywhere. She bought two tickets, one to stop off at Warren Street. Then she'd have to get off and get on at Euston- the second little bubble from the left, and then ride all the way to High Barnet.

She went through the bars, and made it into the train, the silvery doors just gnashing together after she jumped on quickly. She looked around warily, and made her way through the normally crowded seats, graffiti sprayed all over the floors. Hermione sat down quickly in an empty red seat, depositing her bookbag upon the place next to her. She could breathe a little more easily now, crossing her tanned arms over her blue shirt. She had gotten away from Ron quickly enough to not show her complete embarrassment to him. Crossing her legs in front of her, she noticed a little girl in messy red pigtails and checked blue overalls. The little girl had deep gray eyes and was coloring in a coloring book- and the pictures started moving after the little girl colored in them. A woman sat next to the little girl, also with red hair. She was continually picking up crayons as the little girl kept on accidentally putting them in her lap, making them roll off onto the mother. The compartments started swaying, which indicated that the train had started to move. Flashing lights outside of the train blared on and off in the dim part of where the passengers were. The tunnels rushed by as the little girl colored furiously with a smushed up brown crayon.

Hermione smiled at them, looking at the dog the girl was coloring in. The dog was starting to make barking movements with his mouth, when the mother finally noticed that Hermione was looking at the coloring book. The woman hastily took the coloring book away from her supposed daughter and closed it, putting it in her blue leather purse. 

"It's a hologram coloring book," the woman said quickly, flashing a smile at Hermione.

"It's okay- I go to Hogwarts, you don't have to worry about hiding it from me," she smiled back at the lady. Hermione stuck her hand out, the woman reaching out to shake her hand also. "I'm Hermione Granger."

"For a moment there I thought you were a Muggle- what kind of a witch travels on the Underground?" the woman said, laughing. "I'm Ramona Weasley. This is my daughter- Victoria."

Hermione looked at them, not being able to believe the weird coincidence. "Would there be any relation to the Weasleys with the certain names of Ginny, Fred, George, Bill, Charlie, and Ron Weasley?" There went his name again...

"I'm their aunt!" Ramona Weasley said proudly. "Ronald would be in your year, right?"

"Mm-hmm. He's my friend." Now, apparently to Ron, a snogging partner. How. Wonderful.

"Oh! You wouldn't happen to be the girl in the picture with the infamous Harry Potter, would you? Ron has lots of pictures of him and the girl that looks like you. And you seem so familiar, like out of a magazine or the morning paper...." the woman mused over this for a second.

"I would happen to be," Hermione told her, her lips thinning a little. She really hoped that Ramona Weasley didn't read the "Witch Weekly," or then there were going to be some complications explaining everything. And Ron had pictures of her up around his walls? Strangely disturbing, but still. Or he just had pictures of Ron, Harry, and herself in one simple picture. "I mean, I have pictures of him. And Harry. All in one picture, too. Wait- would that make me weird to just have pict-" Hermione mentally slapped herself for going out on a babble. 

Oh, if Rita Skeeter could hear her now. "A True Love Story- the Girl *Madly* in love with a Celebrity and the son of a Ministry Official."

Ramona seemed to know exactly what she was talking about. "That Rita Skeeter is an abomination, isn't she?" she said as she pulled the coloring book back out of her purse and handed it to her daughter. "The way she talks about people..." Ramona shook her head disdainfully. "It's really not a shame that she's gone now. I wonder what in the world could happen to her. I'm quite sure she's not dead- she's like a cockroach, they never die."

Hermione had to smile. "You have no idea." 

"Oxford Circus," bellowed the loudspeakers loudly. The train slowly came to a smooth stop, and Hermione's compartment because subtly lighter as the yellow lighting came into the plastic scratched-out windows. Doors opened on each side, and more people came pouring in, bustling about with their packages and shop bags.

"Mum, how much longer do we have to be here?" asked Victoria in a soft voice, putting down her crayons and looking up into her mother's eyes pleadingly. "The doggie peed on the coloring book." She pointed at a the dog she had colored in in the book.

Hermione had to stifle a giggle as tears appeared in the small girl's eyes.

Ramona Weasley smiled warmly at her daughter. "We still have to go all the Hornchurch, love. That's about 30 minutes, all right?"

Victoria pouted a little, but flipped the page over in her coloring book and started to work on a sun.

"We're going to go visit your friend Ron and his family for a week until we get a house. I wanted to live a little bit closer to my brother," explained the red-haired woman, who really did look a lot like Arthur Weasley when you looked a little closer. "Their house is absolutely fascinating. Wizarding houses usually aren't all that interesting, don't you think? But Arthur's house, now, that's a piece of art."

"Well, I wouldn't know. I'm Muggle born," clarified Hermione, who had been to Ron's house before. If that was interesting, then she really did want to see other wizarding houses. Hopefully ones without house elves.

"Really?" Ramona Weasley sounded fascinated. "So, that's why you're on the Underground! I don't believe 5th years can apparate yet, can they? Victoria and I are just taking the Underground because it's actually much safer then Floo powder. We had sent our baggages by Floo powder, but when we try to do it, well, things don't work out so well. Our fireplace is a barbecue, and it's much too crammed for the two of us."

Hermione seemed a little bewildered by how much one woman could talk. "Oh, well, my parents are a little scared of letting me travel that way."

"Sometimes the Muggle way is the best way," the tomato haired lady told her confidentially. Victoria continued to scribble in her book, while giggling giddily. (AN: Yay, alliteration!)

"I think Muggles are absolutely fascinating. Arthur is obssessed with them. Have you ever been to their house? The Order of Merlin should issue him an award for having so many Muggle things and not magicking them to do wonderful things. Goodness knows I'd be tempted," she declared confidently to Hermione, leaning over her handbag laying on her lap to tell her this.

Hermione felt her lips tug up slightly. If only Ramona Weasley knew what her brother was doing, she'd go *on* and on about that even to her, a not-so-complete stranger. The teenage girl decided not to budge in at this point to tell her of the time that Harry and Ron- Ron, the bloody prick, had flew to Hogwarts on their father's bewitched car. _Flew. _Not drove! Not that she would, anyway, but it really was an interesting conversation point.

"So, where are you heading to today?" asked Arthur Weasley's sister. 

"Actually, I'm heading back to High Barnet. I just came back from a tutoring lesson with Ron," clarified Hermione, leaning back in the uncomfortable plastic chairs a little.

"Well, so the boy tutors now? Good, it'll make a little bit more for Arthur and Molly." Ramona smiled somewhat.

"I'm teaching Ron. He didn't do so nicely on his exams last year, so I'm helping him. But, I requested that I only get paid very little," she stuttered, after Ramona Weasley's look. 

"Good!" Ramona smiled, glad to hear that she wasn't taking all the poor family's money.

Then, the train stopped again, and the tinny loudspeakers called out gruffly: "Euston!"

Ramona Weasley's mouth made a small 'O' and started to gather up her daughter's crayons, ignoring her protests. "Well, the time just flew with you, Hermione, love. This is our change." She was very hurried, putting the coloring utensils and magical coloring book in her daughter's pink backpack, then hoisting the little girl off the seat.

"Bye bye, Hermeeown!" said little Victoria sweetly, with her big eyes. "I'll tell Ron you said hello."

"Bye, Victoria," replied Hermione, smiling a little at the adorable girl. If only Victoria knew what an idiotic boy her cousin was... Well, she would, soon enough. Ramona Weasley stuck her hand out, pushing her hair back behind her hear with her other hand. "It was lovely to meet you. Maybe I'll even see you if you come by the house in Ottery St. Catchpole. But that's far, isn't it?" 

She gave a quick smile to Hermione, after shaking her hand. "Bye!" 

Then, Ramona Weasley and her daughter, holding hands tightly, walked off the train into the station.

Hermione didn't know what to feel now, now that she had met Ron's aunt and his cousin. She couldn't even vent a little, or then Ms. Weasley would have told Ron about what happened and how she had looked "a little disturbed." Now, Hermione was by herself, on the train, and didn't know whether she was highly frustrated, perturbed, or completely turned on by the fact that Ron had kissed her first. Not like she had ever planned on kissing him, she thought hastily. 

So she slumped back lazily, the seats facing her now empty. Soon, they would be filled with people and Ramona and Victoria would be erased from the chairs' memories, until they came back and graced them with their presence. Hermione crossed her legs straight in front of her, and crossed her arms just under the swell of her chest. Glancing at her silver watch (which really did work in the magic world, as it didn't require electricity), she saw that she had about 10 minutes 'til she'd arrive in High Barnet, and then take a bus to her part of town. 

She tried to think of something happy, she really did. Her mind wouldn't listen to her, and just kept on flashing back to Ron's lips pressed on hers, so warm, the thin lines on his lips molding perfectly to hers. Goosebumps appeared on her arms, and she slapped her hand lightly. 'No. Don't think of Ron. Think of- arithmancy. The square root of Ron is- damn, damn, damn...'

It was useless. And it was all his fault. If he hadn't kissed her, none of this would've happened and we could be the way we were. I'm going to have to send him an owl and tell him to forget about everything that happened this lesson- not that they had learned anything worthwhile in Hogwarts except how to snog without your mouths open. It was *sick*, really, just pathetic. Then Hermione smiled. Oh, *so* sick*. But it was good, she reminisced.

Very good.

_____________

"Hermione, Hermione, Hermione, Hermione..." Ron stood in Diagon Alley much the same way Hermione before he had arrived for lessons. He kept on running Hermione's name through his head, lest he forget the woman who damned his soul to some evil creature. It was his punishment. Then he would have to face facts, and accept the fact that he was a bad, bad, naughty boy who had absolutely no common sense and should be sentenced to die a long slow death in a cold chamber with nothing but his skivvies. That's how bad he was. An innocent passerby might think him a little odd, but if the woman sitting on a bench across from his standing figure were to look close enough, she could hear and see him muttering soft, angered little, "Why why why?"'s underneath his breath.

Luckily for Ronald Weasley, no one really paid attention to him or his tall, akward stance in the middle of the alley. So he just glanced at his watch quickly, to find that only 5 minutes had passed since he'd received the weirdest and most mind-boboobling of his entire life. "Okay, well, then that's an exaggeration. Still," thought Ron angrily, "What right had she to- to- do such naughty things? Hiding underneath that guise of a studious nerdy schoolgirl, how dare she!"

Well, he really wasn't quite sure who instigated this rather large problem. The only problem was, was that he'd have to go back again next week and face the wrath of his best friend, who he believed had no right to be angry. She had kissed him! Why was she angry at him? "So unfair," murmured Ron. Again, nobody heard him, and his mum/dad/somebody still hadn't arrived with the floo powder and such.

Then, a tall figure strode over the smooth cobblestones down the long length of Diagon Alley, calling out his name.

"Ron! There you are! Where were you? I've been looking around for a while, and you weren't where I left you," breathed out Mr. Weasley, who was a little flushed and out of breath. "What did you do to Hermione?" he then demanded, instantly assuming that Ron had poofed her out of existence. 

"Dad, don't worry. She's not dead or anything like that-" he said quickly before Mr. Weasley's eyes could do their Look thing. "She just went home, nothing to worry about. But she didn't have any floo powder, so, she had to take the Muggle thingie that goes places."

"Oh, the Underground! How fascinating!" exclaimed Mr. Weasley excitedly, before snapping out of his excitement, and remarking, "I didn't get to pay her. I'll have to send it by owl mail and hope that Pigwidgeon won't eat the money."

Father and son started walking down the midday light alley, towards their destination of the Diagon Alley entrance, where then they could be transported back home via the lightweight green powder.

"I'm pretty sure she'll get it. And Pig won't eat it; he only eats Mum's treacle tarts to Harry," reassured Ron.

"Well, here we are. Remember the rules, Ron. And don't tell your mother I didn't get a chance to pay Hermione, she'll go off on a tangeon again..." Mr. Weasley reminded his son.

Ron gingerly pinched some powder from his father's hand and threw it into the Diagon Alley entrance, which was really just a deep brick wall with the golden glowing words of "Diagon Alley, London" embellished upon its scratchy surface.

"The Burrow!" Ron called loudly into the instantly roaring fire. Then, he was swept away into a deep vortex of green and swishy colors, vivid red flames, fireplaces, and a very confused looking wizard he recognized as Professor Flitwick. He wanted to say 'hello' to him, but he stumbled into the charry black fireplace of his home before he could. It was just as well. Students weren't meant to see their teachers on their vacations; it was kind of like having tutoring sessions with Hermione. Only that gave him an extreme headache as he stumbled upon a faded green couch of their family's in the living room. He plopped down soddenly on it, as weary as dried dirt.

Mr. Weasley came in soon after him, his hat askew and capes a-whirled. "Well then! Burrow, sweet Burrow."

He smiled at his son. Ron managed to fathom a smile back. He jumped off the couch, and managed to weave through the many wizarding items the family had, and walked up the long winding staircase with the Nit-Grit popping out at him through the door of his twin brother's room. Then, the youngest Weasley boy got an idea. He knocked at the worn door softly, hoping that Fred and George were in there.

"Enter, young Weasley!" boomed one of the twins' voices from their room. Ron opened the door carefully, expecting to see the Nit-Grit (dust monster) attack him. Instead, he found the two boys lying upon their bunk beds (covered with the Thundellara Thunders from Australia). Fred and George looked a little too calm and innocent laying idly upon the coverlets, with thunderbolts striking safely near kangaroos. 

Ron pulled up a swirly blue office chair to the bunk bed, spinning a little once he sat on it. The room spun around him in panoramic view, the boys' posters of their Quidditch team grinning and hooting silently at him. Opposite from their white bed were two small desks absolutely cluttered with papers and drawings. To the right of the desks was a built-in armoire that when you clapped, it would open and you could say which cloak you wanted to wear today and what trousers. To the left of the desks were three windows smushed together that looked out onto the green front yard. Several wrinkly little horned toads walked by the bushes akwardly, tipping over occasionally.

The youngest Weasley boy sighed ruefully and gazed upon his older brothers; whom were looking expectantly at him.

"Spit it out already, will you?" groaned George, who had the top bunk. "Gred and me have 'portant things to do that don't concern you, little brother. No offense intended."

"None taken," sniped Ron unintentionally.

"There's no need to get snippy, Ronald," said Fred, who was twiddling his thumbs, looking quite bored. "Was the lesson that awful?"

"Who said anything about a lesson?" asked Ron, feeling a little panicked himself. He hadn't come in here to talk about Hermione, had he? But what other reason did he come into his brothers' rooms for except to nick some of their Chocolate Frogs? "Lesson was fine."

"Right," Fred said, smiling a little. Something was *definitely* in his brother's trousers, gnarling at his ankles. "If you say so."

"Mm-hmm," George joined in. "We believe you, ole boy."

"Oh, completely," Fred chimed in, poking Ron in the stomach.

"Hey! Everything was fine, I'm fine, we're all fine."

"So why are you in here disturbing our precious bonding time in which we need to bond?" said George, knowing exactly that something was wrong with his younger brother. The twins could always tell if something was wrong with Ron- he was *such* a temperamental boy, so sensitive.

"You don't ever bond," declared Ron, feeling a little smug, sitting there in the twirling blue office chair.

"And you never sneak into our room unless you want our goodies," declared Fred. "So what's with the what? Who's with the who? Tell us, Ron, and get a clue!"

"Good one," said George.

"Thank you, Fred."

"You're welcome, George."

Ron sighed, knowing already that the twins knew something was up. "Fine, I'll tell you." Inside, he felt a little squeamish about telling the twins the day's events, but he had to get it out. It was too weird to let it bottle inside of him, but then again, if he told Fred and George... They'd be on his back for the rest of his life. Fred and George sat up eagerly, looking at Ron with bright eyes. "You snogged someone, didn't you? You ditched Hermione and snogged someone!" said George excitedly, his long legs dangling over the edge of the top bunk. 

"No, wait, you STOLE something! Oh, you did, di'in't you? Oh, whadja steal, c'mon now, tell us!" Fred bounded up and down on his bed, grinning.

"Yes, no," Ron replied vaguely. His hands were feeling all clammy in the bright room. It was a little uncomfortable, but he had to or he'd explode!

"You snogged someone! You snogged someone!" said Fred and George simultaneously. "Who's the lucky girl?"

"Shouldn't you say boy?" Ron winked at them.

Fred's mouth dropped. George's eyes went wide. Gulped. "You... Kissed a boy?" whispered Fred furtively. 

"Well, if you lean that way, then you lean that way..." George shook his head in disbelief. Ron had seemed so- not poofy... What had they done?

"Please! I snogged a girl, all right?" muttered Ron, who had turned a bright shade of red and whose heart was fluttering again.

George and Fred gave each other high fives, and Fred slapped him on the back. "We knew you weren't a-a-"

"Poofter," finished George.

"Right."

"So, who? Who was it? Tell us! We have to know so then we can educate you, little brother dearest," exclaimed Fred joyously. He faked a tear running down his face. "Our 'ittle 'wittle beebee is growing up! I don't know how you can stand this, George, but I sure can't."

Ron looked at his odd brothers warily, then grinned. "Oh yeah, I'm real grown up now."

"Oh, but you _are, _Ronnikins. Don't you understand? You're a big boy now."

"Who?" asked Fred, not to be pushed aside. "Who?"

"Her-hairislovely," said Ron, completely incoherent.

"It was HERMIONE!" George exclaimed triumphantly. "It was her, wasn't it? Ah, I knew it! 3 long years of sexual tension can only leave so much self control in a man." He grinned at Ron and smacked him on the shoulder. "You naughty bastard, you. Taking advantage of your teacher."

"What?" Ron's voice shook slightly. "Who said anything about Hermione? No, no,no."

The no seemed to have done Fred in, too. "So it was! Ooh, you lucky ass, you. Is she good? She is, isn't she? Look at you, you're grinning like an idiot. You looooooooooooooovvvvveee her! Ronnie's got a girlfriend, Ronnie's got a girlfriend!"

"Fine. It was Hermione," mumbled Ron, blushing furiously and grinning with pearly white teeth.

George let out a tiny squeal. "Pay up, Fred."

"Oh, come on now, we're brothers. Twins. Kindred spirits. If I paid you it'd be like paying m'self," groaned Fred.

"You bet on me?" asked Ron incredulously. "When?"

"Fifth year, we started it, actually. Reflectin' on it, I 'spose it was pure genius on our parts," said George not-so-humbly. "You little weenies were in 3rd year, and it was really too obvious. I'm surprised Harry didn't ever notice it; I would've. But I guess that's why I'm in seventh year and he's in fifth, and,"

"Anyway," Fred continued for George, who was veering off into a completely different subject, "When you and Hermione were fighting about that damned cat and Scabbers, rest his soul-"

Ron rolled his eyes inwardly, knowing the true nature of the despicable Scabbers.

"There was a lot of tension between you two. A lot. And so George and m'self took it upon us to bet on you two to see how long it would take you to realize your deep and concentrated love and attraction..." Fred sighed happily. "And now it has finally happened, and that's why I have to pay George, which I really don't want to do right now so Georgie-pie, please don't make me?"

"Actually," Ron cut in, "We haven't. I kissed her- or she kissed me- when we were 'sposed to be doing our lessons. We got lost in the Diagon Alley alley, and we went through this empty store and it was just completely out there."

"Wait- so you didn't feel anything for her and then you just kissed her? That's harsh, Ron. Real harsh," twitted George, raising his eyebrows at his brother. "You didn't tell her you didn't feel anything, right? Because that would be really, _really,_ stupid, you know that?"

"Err... Well, I sort of didn't tell her anything afterwards. I said we had to go. Because Dad might've been waiting for me," Ron said nervously, waiting for his brother's reactions. 

"Noooooo..." moaned George loudly, flopping back on his bed. 

"You _idiot." _said Fred, his mouth agape, shaking his head at Ron. "Why did you do that?"

"Well, what was I supposed to say? 'Hey, Herm, you look nice today, thanks for the snog, I love you?'" said Ron rather angrily. "I mean, that was my first actually kissing experience and-"

"As sweet and darling as that is, lovely stupid boy, you don't ever shove the girl away after you kiss her. Didn't you even stop and think that Hermione might have- some repressed feelings about you? Don't you even slightly care for her?" said George, sounding quite disappointed in him.

"Well..." Ron started softly, not sure of what to say. "I don't know! She makes me so mad sometimes, you know! And then she's all smart and Hermione one day, and then she's wearing a tight shirt and her hair is straight, and it's Hermione but it's not Hermione and it's confusing."

"Oh, yeah. She _likes_ you, Ron. I'm figuring she likes you a sodding lot. Then you go and stomp on her heart."

"Lesson the first, Ronnikins: when you kiss a girl for the first time, you have to declare feelings afterwards. Have to, have to, have to. Or do something that's less idiotic than what you did," replied Fred, sounding as disappointed as George. 

"I don't feel anything for her! I don't!" Ron denied, feeling a little flustered. "You can't 'declare' anything unless you have feelings."

"Or unless you don't know it yet. You're a boy, Ron, doi. Of course you're not going to know it. Like me and Angelina..." Fred told him, patting him on the back. "You're going have to figure this part out on your own. We can't do anything for you; you have to figure this mess out yourself."

"Poor boy; so much in denial," sighed George. "Now go. You go and sulk and have a Chocolate Frog. No doubt your blood sugar is low and you're not thinking so nicely."

George handed Ron a glossy little frog from the plastic container by their bed that served as a nighttable. "You go. Go and be with yourself."

Then, he pushed Ron out of the small bedroom, leaving him out in the little staircase by himself with nothing but a chocolate frog. He took a bite out of it, and felt instantly better. But there was still that sense of dread for next week. How could he go back when he now knew Hermione liked him? It was terrifying! Then he took another bite, and that cloud of worry went away, leaving him in the happy daze of chocolate.

_________________________________________

**Muwahaha! Chapter three, also NOT the end... I'm sorry, that end of the chapter sucked majorly, I managed to come upon some lip gummies that I thought were strawberry but were cinnamon and pretty nasty and eeeeeeeeeewwwww.... It just screwed the entire mood. Anybody intrigued? I love Ramona Weasley, really, I do. Please review, I love you! Oh, I sound like the twins... Anyway, yes. It's been a long long time but I finally managed to do it. *beams***


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